Four Days Until Dawn
by calla lilly rose
Summary: *"Today's Tuesday, and you've been asleep and delirious since Saturday night. Don't you remember?" Ponyboy couldn't, but no one else would ever forget. Passages from The Outsiders used without permission. All rights, however, belong to SE Hinton.
1. Darkness

A/N: I do not own The Outsiders. All rights belong to SE Hinton.

**Four Days Until Dawn**

**Installment 1: Darkness**

XXX

Soda held the door open as Darry carefully made his way up the porch steps, Ponyboy's still form cradled in his arms. Worry and exhaustion painted their faces. Darry had already had to battle it out in a tug of war a few hours ago, and although he'd won, he still wasn't totally convinced he'd done the right thing. However, there had been no alternative, he'd done what he financially had to do.

All night long, he and Sodapop had held vigil at their youngest brother's hospital bedside watching him sleep; flanked on either side by their remaining closest friends who couldn't see it within themselves to leave. Already their number was down by two. The thought of a third fading away worried them more than they'd ever say. However, words didn't need to be said. It was obvious in their eyes, their faces; the anxious body language that screamed volumes despite their still tongues.

The hospital staff had been accommodating, allowing them to stay despite visiting hours having ended. Technically, Darry had the _right_ to stay – as legal guardian, Darry had the same rights as any other parent of any other kid admitted on the ped's floor. Soda and the others could have been forced to leave, however, the charge nurse turned a blind eye to the worried four that stood steadfast to the youngster's bedside. Despite their looks - the muddied, torn clothes, bruised jawlines and skinned knuckles; they'd caused no trouble. They just sat, kept watch over the boy, spoke words of comfort amongst themselves and bothered no one.

However, late in the afternoon of the next day, the doctor who'd admitted Ponyboy changed his mind and wanted to turn the boy's 24 hour observational hold into a full blown admission. Darry, who'd already spoken with the financial officer during the wee hours of the night, knew he was facing financial collapse. He'd taken most of last week off searching in vain for Ponyboy and Johnny, so his check would be barely worth the paper it'd be written on; and he had no insurance to cover the medical bills that had already racked up. Darry's only choice was to take his brother home and care for him there.

"Can he go home?" Darry'd asked carefully when the doctor was done examining his sleeping brother.

The doctor'd looked shocked. Never had he released a still-unconscious patient to family, let alone a pediatric patient. "Mr. Curtis, I wouldn't recommend it. He needs to stay here, at least another night."

And so the tug of war began. The doctor had his say, noting Pony's unchanged condition; Darry countering with assurances that Pony would be watched closely and would fair better in his own bed. In the end, the doctor capitulated and wrote the discharge orders. At the doctor's table - situated down the hall in the far corner of the nurses station, his frustration was evident.

"He's making a mistake. That boy needs to stay _here_."

The nurse watching said nothing, knowing this doctor's mannerism's too well by now. Finally, he recapped his pen, closed the chart and stood up to leave – all in a huff. The nurse waited for him to disappear then picked up the chart, sighed and started the papers, eventually going in to have Mr. Curtis sign them.

"Here," she said softly, handing him a small package before going over the discharge papers. She'd known what the issue was. She'd seen too many youths from the East side grace these hallways before. They were all different - some old, some young, yet they all had been cut from the same bolt of cloth. Beneath the grease and dirt and often impoverished conditions, they all had heart. They tended to forget that as they aged, but illness usually seemed to jog their memories. Unless – as was the case of Dallas Winston - they'd grown cold and refused to feel warm again.

Until they faced death. Then the heat burned them.

With gentle fingers, she handed him a book - a slip of paper containing her phone number sticking out. "I took care of his friend, Johnny, just before he passed away. He'd needed rest, but was determined to talk. He spoke of your brother; seems he and Ponyboy were very good friends. He'd made me promise to get this back to him. I didn't know how until Ponyboy was admitted. Then – considering his condition, I wasn't sure when the right time was. But, now that he's going home, this is the only time I have."

Darry took the book and slid it in his pocket. He turned his attention to the bundle of papers in her hand, but she reached out and touched his hand carefully. "Look, this isn't going to be easy. Once you get home ... should you need any help, call me. Anytime. My number is there."

Darry understood her meaning and was grateful. The nurse slid the boy onto a gurney and rolled him to the hospital's front door where Sodapop was waiting with the truck. Darry slid one arm under Pony's shoulders; the other under his knees and lifted, carefully sliding his youngest brother into the middle seat of the truck and scooted in next to him, holding him close so he wouldn't fall over. A nod was given and Soda put the truck in gear, driving more carefully than he ever had in the past.

Now home, Darry lifted Pony's form again and carried him up the steps, through the house and laid him on his and Soda's bed.

"You wanna leave him in that hospital get-up or dress him?" Soda asked, the uncertainty audible in his voice. The bandage around his brothers bruised and battered head was what troubled him the most. Soda understood Pony's injuries – the concussion worried him the most. He was silently terrified they'd do something to make it worse. A head was not a football, it couldn't take being kicked around. At least in the hospital, there was someone trained to go to for help and answers, here it was just them. Cars he could fix, people – he couldn't.

"Lose the gown," Darry answered softly as he lifted Ponyboy to him to reach the strings down his back. Pony lay limp in Darry's arms as Soda pulled the flimsy gown off, feeling the unnatural warmth of Pony's skin against his own. He let the guilty feeling that Pony lay in this state because of him persist just for a moment, then drew a breath and regained control over himself again. He gave his sleeping brother another look, noticing the many bruises from the rumble under the dirt still on his skin. The nurses had tried to clean him, but had done a less than stellar job.

"Soda, go start a bath. Not hot, just comfortably warm."

Soda looked questioningly at Darry, then went to do as asked. When he came back, Darry had finished stripping Pony down to what God had given him and had laid as many towels as he could find out on the bed.

"Tub's ready," Soda said.

Darry nodded and picked Ponyboy up again, carefully carrying him to the bathroom. He slid Ponyboy into the water, grabbed a washcloth and the soap, and started cleaning him up. Soda and Darry worked in silence; fear, worry and fatigue zapping them of their usual banter. Only the sounds of washcloths being dipped into the water while one body part after another was gently cleaned broke the stillness. In stark contrast, Darry's thoughts were loud. And painful.

Darry knew Dallas's body was being cremated today, he'd overheard it while getting coffee by the nurses desk. He'd stalled by the pot long enough to hear a nurse give a wary chuckle and mention Dally's name. Apparently Dally had said something offensive to one or more of them when he in the hospital just a few days ago; and now - while none of them had caused his death, none of them seemed particularly sad to hear he was gone, either.

"Well, he got what was coming to him. I knew that hood was no good," she'd said lowly, as if not wanting to be overheard outside her circle, yet unaware she had been. None of them had anything nice to say about Dallas, and with a heaviness in his chest, Darry'd gone back to Ponyboy's room, back to their vigil.

Glancing at Soda, Darry didn't share that with him, not now. Probably not ever.

"We gonna wash his hair?" Soda asked, looking at the grains of sand sticking to Pony's unnaturally bleached locks. Mud from the rain-soaked rumble had dried and was still mired in his hair.

"Yeah."

"But what about....." Soda started, unsure.

"He'll be fine. Just hold him up and I'll do it." Soda held Pony under his armpits, letting his head rest against his forearm while keeping him from sliding deeper into the water. Darry removed the bandage and poured cup after cup of water over his youngest brother's hair. With delicate fingers, he massaged the shampoo in; acutely aware of the injured side of his head. With fresh warm water from the tap, Darry rinsed until the shampoo was gone.

Satisfied, he picked Ponyboy up and carried him back to his room, laying him on top of the towels to dry him. Once his hair was as dry as they could get it, Darry wrapped fresh gauze back around his head. They managed to finagle a pair of his briefs on him and finally called it quits. Darry got the warm comforter off his bed and wrapped it over Ponyboy, looked at his sleeping brother once more, and squeezed Soda's shoulder.

"I'm beat, gonna go lay down for a while. You gonna stay here with him?"

"Yeah, I ain't going nowhere. I'm gonna crash too. Don't worry, I'll wake you if something happens."

Darry nodded and headed off down the hall.

XXX

Calla Lily Rose


	2. Blackness

**Four Days Until Dawn**

Installment 2

**Blackness**

XXX

"Think we should?" Two-Bit asked, uncertain. It was massively late – not that time of day had ever stopped anyone before, but this wasn't like a typical visit. The house even looked different, felt different; the curtains closed, the door shut. Granted, this was autumn and the chill in the air was unmistakable, but something about the house seemed unnaturally still.

"_'Should_' is relative. No, we probably shouldn't. But we are. C'mon." Steve insisted, taking one last drag before flicking away his smoke, then stepped off the curb to cross the street. Two-Bit followed suit, taking a long, concerned drag of his own from his stick as well.

Steve opened the door slowly, listening and looking around before letting himself in. The place was unusually quiet. Normally, this house was a hotbed of activity. Laughter, music, television and people all sounding off together to make the house alive. For some, this was home; but for so many others this was their hang-out. A guys -being- guys sort of place. Hell, even the rugrat tripping over his own coffee table was part of the norm here; but for the last week, nothing had been normal in this house. Nothing.

The pall still hadn't lifted.

"You sure about this?" Two-Bit asked again. Steve glared at him and caught the screen door behind them, for once keeping the doors from slamming as they shut. Down the hallway, Soda – hair mussed and eyes dark with fatigue, came out of one of the bedrooms.

"Hey bud. So uh, how's the kid?" Steve asked, jutting his chin out towards Soda's closed bedroom door.

"No change, still out."

Two-Bit had wandered down the hallway, compelled to take a gawk for himself. The pale face of his young friend laying motionless on his pillow brought a lump to his throat. Images of Johnny laying just like that only a few days before raced across his mind before he could help it. He swallowed gruffly, looked around the room once then returned to the kitchen, searching for a longneck to open. He had to settle for one of the kids Pepsi's. It wouldn't give him the feeling he was looking for, but would give his throat something more meaningful to swallow besides emotion.

Looking over the selection, he realized the fridge was getting bare; shopping had been put on hold last week, forgotten amidst other - more pressing - issues.

"... no idea how we're gonna get him to eat. I dunno, man. I just don't know." Soda had been saying, whisps of smoke floating off the end of the lit cigarette dangling from his fingers. Steve listened, letting his friend get it off his chest but thought hard on it too. He had to admit, he had no ideas either. Steve didn't care for the kid as much as Two-Bit and Johnny did; hell, even Dallas had been more outgoing with the runt, but that didn't mean he didn't _like_ him. He was just... younger. And naive. And annoyingly smart. And goofy. And..... and a whole _lot_ of stuff. Enough for him to turn a cold shoulder to the kid, at least that's what he hoped.

"How much weight has he lost?" Steve asked absentmindedly. He'd noticed the way the kid's clothes had hung off him yesterday before the rumble; but it wasn't his place to say stuff like that to Darry. The kid was Darry's problem. He had no stake in the kid's welfare, at least he still tried convincing himself of that. Now it worried him that if, _maybe_, he'd mentioned it to Darry, Darry would have been more adamant that the kid stay home during the fight. And if the kid had stayed home, he wouldn't be in the fix he was in right now.

"Since last Saturday? I ain't sure. A lot." Soda snuffed out the butt and stared at the wood grain finish on the table. When he was a kid, he'd taken his knife and carved his initials on the underside of the table. It was a month before his mother had found it, and skinned him good for it. Why that thought happened in his head, he didn't know. He scrubbed his face, blinked and looked around.

"You're, um ... you know you're scheduled to work tomorrow." Steve mentioned, flicking his own dying embers into the ash tray. "You gonna show?"

Soda looked down the hallway, his instinct to not leave his brother's side warring with his understanding of how dire their finances were right then. "Yeah, I'll be there," he answered blandly a moment later.

Steve nodded. "If you can't, call me. I can cover."

"You've covered for me enough. It ain't fair to you." Steve had gone in for Soda for most of last week while he and Darry combed Tulsa searching for their brother. Soda didn't find out until last Friday that Steve had used his timecard and not his own to punch in, effectively giving Sodapop Steve's pay for the week.

"Fuck that. I got enough, and you need the dough more than I do. If you need the time, take it."

Soda said nothing more. Steve had always been there for him like this. There was no point in arguing about it.

"Mom?" A quiet, questioning call came from down the hallway, causing all the boys to look. Soda was on his feet first.

"Pone?" he gently called out, crossing the threshold into their room. The boy lay on the bed, head slowly turning side to side, fingers stretching against the sheets, reaching out for someone who wasn't there.

"Momma?" he whispered into his darkness. His eyes remained closed, but over the lids Soda could see his iris's moving, searching. Heat radiated from what little skin was exposed; beneath the blankets, he was roasting.

"Get Darry," Soda called over his shoulder as he took the outstretched fingers into his own hand.

"Dad? _Please _… I … can't …" Pony mumbled in his confused sleep. His forehead crinkled, his chin quivered.

"Shhhh, Pone. I'm here." Soda cooed. The anguish faded as fingers of two separate hands intertwined. Darry was suddenly behind him, peering over his shoulder. Soda looked up. "He's hot," Soda said, answering Darry's questioning eyes.

Darry reached down and felt for himself, once again doubting his decision to remove him from the hospital. Bankruptcy and foster care was certainly a better alternative to forever losing what was left of his family. "I'll be right back."

Darry fished out the scrap of paper, dialing the number. It rang three times before being answered.

"Hello? Is … Marge Pendelton there?"

"_Hold on. Maaaa! Phone!"_

Darry shifted his stance while waiting. Then the nurse picked up.

"_Hello?"_

"Mrs. Pendelton, this is Darrel Curtis. I brought my brother home today.... Ponyboy? You uh, you said..."

"_I remember. What can I do?"_

Twenty minutes later, Marge was pulling up in front of Darry's house.

"He's back here," Two-Bit said, letting the lady in. He gawked at her, surprised. He wasn't sure what to expect, but this wasn't at all what he'd pictured. She was dressed in denim jeans and a red pull-over shirt and tennis shoes. In her hand she carried a bag.

"Thank you for coming over..." Darry started. She nodded and went right to the boy's side.

"Ponyboy?" she called. There was no answer. His mumbling had stopped a few minutes ago. None of what he'd said made sense to anyone.

She stuck a thermometer under his arm and listened to his chest. The guys stood back and watched, waiting anxiously. Eventually, she turned back to Darrel.

"He's got a really high temperature. Do you have any Tylenol?"

Darry conjured the contents of his medicine cabinet in his mind and nodded. "Sure, I'll get it." He came back with a bottle of pills to which she took two out. Giving the boy a glance, she frowned.

"You wouldn't happen to have a mortar and pestle around here, would you?" Her weak attempt at humor fell flat as the blank stares answered that question. "A knife, perhaps?" she tried again more seriously.

Instantly, Steve and Two-Bit both flicked out blades. She jumped a bit, not expecting weapons to be presented in that manner; but upon closer examination chose the one Steve had. It was wider.

"Your kitchen?"

Soda led the way. She sat the tablets on a napkin and crushed them, using the flat side of the blade. Then she got a glass and mixed the powder with a little water. Returning to the bedroom, she fished a new syringe out of her bag, sucked the solution into it and coaxed the boys mouth open.

"Swallow, Ponyboy. Come on, swallow, honey," she urged. Little by little she sent the mixture down his throat, the fingers of her free hand trailing down his neck with each small squirt of the solution. She felt his throat jump as he swallowed the medicine a few drops at a time, until eventually it was gone.

"I'm going to leave the syringe here. His fever should break within the hour. If it doesn't, call me back. You can give him two more pills in around five hours. Just dribble it down the inside of his cheek slowly, he should swallow it okay. Anything else?"

"No, thanks," Darry said. She nodded and got up to leave. "Do I owe you anything?" Darry asked as he walked her to her car.

She smiled but shook her head. "Just call me if you need help. And if anyone asks, this didn't happen."

Twenty minutes later, sweat started to bead on Ponyboy's forehead. Soda was there with a washcloth, wiping it off.

"No! … _fire_...." he mumbled. Soda leaned in, listening closer while Steve and Two-Bit were stopped motionless in their tracks. "Don't …_ don't_ … go …. in!" Silence for a moment, then his voice rose sharply, his hands twitched. "_Johnny!_" Beneath the closed lids, his eyes darted at things unseen.

The police report laying on Darry's dresser filled in the gaps. He knew there'd been a fire, and he knew Ponyboy and Johnny had run into the burning building to save some kids while Dallas worked to do his part on the outside. Facts on paper held no emotion. To see and feel the emotion one only had to gaze on the boy, hear the pleas whispered aloud. In his head, the events were like a screwed up 8-track tape, never ending, just going on an endless loop.

Later, after the guys had left, Soda sat with him while Darry made a midnight dinner. Grilled cheese and tomato soup. While Darry was busy in the kitchen, Pony struggled with demons only he saw. In his mind, the scene had changed and he was being hit again, slamming against the door. What Soda saw was Pony moving his head sharply to the right, his hands jerking simultaneously. Then he lay motionless as Soda soothed his forehead.

The vision changed again. His mother was there, tending to him as she had when he was seven, sick with the chicken pox. Darry, who'd already had the pox, had carried it home to Ponyboy after a wrestling match with an infected friend, but none of them knew that. He was itchy and achy for over a week and his mother insisted he wear socks on his hands to keep from scratching. Through that misery, though, she was there. Always there. When he woke from one painfully itchy dream after another, her face was the one thing he could count on. In his mind, she was there again. Brushing his hair from his eyes, smiling down at him. Patting his shoulder and rubbing his back.

"I love you, momma," he mumbled at her. She smiled at him, kissed his cheek and tousled his hair some more.

Soda worriedly looked at him, unsure what to do.

Later, as the soups cooled and the sandwiches were slowly bitten into, Pony's mind turned to fight an unseen battle, one he'd already lost. He once again felt himself being lifted and slammed headfirst into the frigid water; struggling ... frantic. Darry, sitting next to him, nearly spilled his soup as Ponyboy jerked defensively, almost knocking the bowl free from his hand. He hastily sat his bowl down and grabbed Pony's arm as the boy slammed it into the headboard, arching his back against the mattress and pillows in his struggles. He kicked once, twice – refusing to breathe, terrified of the water again.

Strong hands held him, but he couldn't discern these that fought to protect from those which had sought to harm. His eyes flew open but saw nothing, still captive to the terror of his vision. Soda – on his other side, held his flailing brother, speaking softly to him until Pony sucked in a deep, choking breath, shuddered and collapsed into a heap. They waited a moment, anticipating him to flail about again, but Ponyboy didn't; his only movement being the harsh ragged intake of air back into his body. As he settled his brother back against the pillows, Soda wiped away a tear from his own eyes that refused to be held back. If Darry saw it, he never said.

"One of us needs to stay with him." Soda surmised later. Darry was in agreement. If he tossed himself out of bed, the results could be disastrous. Darry got the armchair and brought it into the bedroom, making the cramped room that much smaller, then looked at Soda.

"Go sleep in my room. I'll stay here with him." Darry instructed. Soda started to protest, but Darry shook his head. "You're going in to work in the morning, remember? You won't be any good like you are. He'll be fine." Soda gave him a look of disbelief, to which Darry dismissed. "Soda, look – if he has another outburst, I don't want to struggle jumping over you to get to him. I'll call you if anything happens. Now go on."

Soda attempted one last look of defiance before turning towards Darry's bedroom. He'd sat on his brother's bed many times before, even slept on it once in a while. He never remembered it being this soft before. He curled his arm around the spare pillow, holding it tightly to his chest, and drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

XXX

Calla Lily Rose


	3. Bleakness

**Four Days Until Dawn**

Installment 3

**Bleakness**

XXX

"Hey," Two-Bit softly said, announcing his presence into the kitchen. Darry looked over at him, idly stirring his coffee to cool it.

"Hey," Darry answered. "It's late. What brings you over?"

Two-Bit shrugged, fingers fiddling with the busted zipper on his jacket. Darry noticed something didn't look right with his friend. Then again, something didn't look right with_ any_ of his friends. The events of the week had aged them all, sucked the life out of those still living.

"This a bad time?" Two-Bit mumbled. He'd felt an innate pull to be here, close to the kid. Guilt ate at him. Shameful, tormenting, endless guilt.

Darry's turn for a shrug. "You're welcome anytime. Ain't nothing going on though. Soda's crashed in my bed, Pony.... well, he's still out in his."

"Can I see him?"

Darry thought it odd that Two-Bit would stop and ask, yet wouldn't look him in the eye.

He gave his friend a hard glance then nodded, sipping his coffee. "Sure, but don't wake him up."

"I won't."

He turned and headed down the hall, stepping stealthy into the semi-dark room. The moonlight set the room aglow with a pale light. He was there, asleep in his bed just as he should be. Only, instead of _sleeping_, he should be laughing, or reading, or playing cards. Hell, even star-gazing would be more his style. _This_ – this was _wrong_, and he was responsible for it.

"I'm sorry, kid," he whispered as he sank into the empty chair. His sober eyes burned for something that would dull the pain, but all day Two-Bit had refused his body what it wanted. "I should have told him. I _should_ have," he mumbled low enough not to be heard.

He leaned forward, wanting to get a closer look – but he was still too far away. He moved from the chair to the side of the bed, leaning over to feel the unconscious boy's cheek. Carefully, he let his thumb trail down his young friends face, feeling the silky smoothness of never-shaven skin. He was so young still. Too young to have gone through everything he had.

The forehead of his friend furrowed, eyebrows pressing downward into a tight V. "No," Ponyboy mumbled sharply, catching Two-Bit off guard. He froze, wondering if he'd hurt him somehow.

"Ponykid? You awake?" Two-Bit hesitantly asked, uncertain.

The forehead smoothed again, his hands moved some, halfway gripping something that wasn't there. Then, out of the darkness, he screamed.

"Darry!"

Two-Bit jumped, startled. Before he could figure out what to do, Darry had already made it to his brother's side, wrapping one arm protectively over his chest while laying the back of his hand over his forehead and cheek. Darry frowned.

"What did I _do_?" Two-Bit pleaded. "I swear, all I did was touch his face … really lightly! I didn't mean..."

"...It's okay, Two-Bit. He's just hot again. He gets a little out of his head when he's too hot. He was like this earlier. Sit here for a minute while I get some medicine for him, would ya?"

Two-Bit watched as Darry untangled himself from his youngest brother's arms then disappeared, and nervously sat by the kid's side again. Mentally, he wasn't so sure about his own state. The only thing going through his head were images of Johnny, burned up in that hospital bed; of Dallas smirking before fiery anger burned in his eyes and the demand of his prized blade made; of the kid - pale as a sheet and hotter than mid-day in August sitting there waiting for the bus - begging him not to say a word. If he _had,_ if he'd done what his gut told him to do ... would fate had played out the same way?

Would the kid reappear almost two hours after the rumble had ended - blood smeared down his head, his skin alabaster from being so pale, and his rough, tormented voice announcing that Johnny had died? Would he have collapsed at their feet after watching Dallas get shot dead in front of him – Dally's last words being the kid's name? Would the kid have had to spend the night in the hospital? Would he be laying here like he was now - confused, disorientated … _damaged?_

Would he ever be the same?

Tears fell down Two-Bit's face before he'd realized they were there.

"Hey, Two-Bit, it's just a fever. You didn't do anything wrong." Darry said with rare gentleness.

Two-Bit blinked, unsure when Darry had returned. He moved out of the big guy's way, watching as Darry coaxed his brother's mouth to open, placed the syringe against his cheek and released the medicine. The boy coughed some, a pool of saliva appearing on his lips.

"Damn, forgot...." Darry used a towel to wipe his brother's mouth, then stroked his neck. The young adam's apple moved as he swallowed. Darry delivered more medicine to the boy, he swallowed again and Darry sat up, finished.

"This is my fault." Two-Bit said suddenly.

Darry, exhausted and numbed, looked over. "Care to explain?"

More tears fell, but he was too far gone to try to hide them. "He wasn't looking so good before the rumble. He … he _begged_ me not to say anything. I was stupid, I should have known better. If I had told you..... then...... this.... _he._..." He gestured at Ponyboy's unconscious form, words failing him, getting hitched in his throat.

It was easy to feel like shit, yet harder to admit to someone you admired so much how you'd screwed up so completely; and that your mistake nearly cost someone dear to you their life. Especially when so much had already been lost.

"I'm sorry, Darry. I'm really,_ really_ sorry."

Darry looked at his friend, falling to pieces on the other side of the bed. He gathered what strength he had and tried to dismiss his friend's claim of guilt. He tossed the box of tissues Ponyboy kept on his desk at Two-Bit, who took some and mopped up his face.

"Hell, Two-Bit. This ain't your fault. It's mine. I knew he wasn't looking so hot before we set out for the rumble. I debated on making him stay, but I knew as soon as I suggested it, he'd never do it. He'd follow us no matter what I said. So, I let him come, hoping I could keep my eye on him. I was stupid for thinking that would work. No, buddy, this ain't your fault. It's mine. All mine."

And Darry really felt like that, only his guilt ran longer than a few nights. His ran back over a week. Subconsciously, he rubbed his right palm, the palm that had struck his brother as the kid stood there, demanding that he hadn't_ meant_ to fall asleep in the lot. No matter how old he got, no matter what else life had in store for him, Darry would never forget that singular event that forever changed his very existence.

And he'd forever be ashamed of it.

"You knew?" Two-Bit asked, astonished.

Darry nodded. "Yeah, hell yeah I knew. But I thought... I thought I could protect him. That between Soda and me...." his voice trailed, feeling Ponyboy tense up again.

"Soda.... _help_..." The plea was agonizing, voice soft as a whisper. Ponyboy was calling out in his sleep, not in conscious reality. Waking Sodapop would do nothing for the situation, the danger lurked only in Pony's head. There was nothing Darry could do but sit and watch, guard and wait. He tucked the blankets around his youngest brother's shoulder, patting his arm when done. He never finished what he was saying, but Two-Bit understood.

"He gonna be okay?" Two-Bit asked.

Darry's pale eyes looked up. "Yeah. He'll be okay." _In time_, Darry thought. _He's __**got**__ to be._

"Anything you guys need? Just name it...." Two-Bit insisted. He'd buy it, borrow it or steal it if he had to. This family was that important.

"No. We're good. Thanks."

Two-Bit gave one more look at his friends - one sleeping, the other an inch away from collapse, and stood to go.

"Call me if you change your mind."

"I will. Thanks, Two-Bit." Darry said, settling into his chair for the night, his eyes already closed.

"No," Two-Bit insisted. "Thank you. See ya in the morning."

Darry, too tired to answer, nodded. Two-Bit patted the door frame and headed off to his own home, glad it was nighttime. The cold was enough to get his mind off the boy laying there. It wasn't, however, enough to get his mind off the other boy who would never come home again.

As he passed_ that _house, the one belonging to the Cade's, he felt his stomach turn to ice and puked in the bushes. When he could stand again, he turned his feet toward the outskirts of town. His eyes couldn't take the burn any longer. He was weak, and headed off to quench a thirst that no regular soft drink would fulfill.

XXX

Calla Lily Rose


	4. Dreariness

**Four Days Until Dawn**

Installment 4

**Dreariness**

XXX

Dawn broke. For the most part, any sleep the three of them got had been restless. Sodapop managed the most, but it wasn't restful. A few hours had passed but he still felt whipped when his eyes opened. Without stopping to pee, he went directly to his room to see for himself that his younger brother really was home.

The armchair was empty but the bed was not. There, laying still against pillows outlining his frame, was Ponyboy. His color was still off, unnaturally pale; his bleached hair not helping the pallor any. One of his arms lay outside the blankets, resting palm down, fingers slightly bent at each joint. Carefully, Soda lay down beside him, wrapping his arm over the younger brother's chest, feeling its rise and fall; the motion comforting somehow. It wasn't a dream. He really was home.

The moment would not last long, he had to get up and leave for the day. His job demanded his return or receive a pink slip. The boss had been as understanding as he could be, but the missing brother had returned and now he had to go back to work. Darry was in the kitchen already working on breakfast, the sound of pots and pans being shuffled in the cabinet echoing down the hall.

"I'm here, Pone. I'm here," Soda whispered, procrastinating a bit longer as he lay still against the younger boy's frame. He felt the skin beneath his arm as he rested his hand over the rhythmical beat, giving him assurance that life existed. It seemed unusually fast, and he paused to take a closer look. A moment later, he got up and headed into the kitchen.

"He's hot again," Soda mumbled, leaving normal greetings for later.

"I've got the stuff ready." Darry turned the heat down from under the pans and headed off to the bedroom, Soda following. He held his brother up while Darry carefully gave the slurry, and was about to lay Ponyboy back on the pillows when Darry picked up a cup and drew something else into the syringe.

"What's that?"

"Soup. It's been days since he's had anything to eat. I just want to try, see if I can't get anything in him."

The warm broth from the vegetable beef soup was slowly squirted into his mouth in the same manner as the medicine. Darry felt some relief, glad he was finally getting something nutritional into his brother's system. Three syringe fills later, however, instead of swallowing - Ponyboy suddenly clenched. They each felt his frame lock up, shaking. A fit of coughing sent the last of the soup from his mouth. Darry was once again ready with a towel, just in case.

"No!" Ponyboy said suddenly. They thought he was awake.

"Pony, you gotta eat. C'mon, just a little more." Soda implored.

Ponyboy twisted in protest, Soda laid him down. "No baloney," the boy mumbled as he rooted deeper into the sheets. "No baloney." Throughout, his eyes never opened. Soda looked at Darry, confused. Darry had no answers. He pulled the covers up and took the cup and the syringe back to the kitchen to wash. A moment later, Soda followed.

"I should stay," he thought out loud.

"Go. I got it." Darry tiredly answered.

"Darry..." Soda protested.

"_Go_. Tomorrow will be your turn. I got it, now go. I'll call you if there are any changes."

Soda hesitated, then turned to leave. If he stayed to argue longer; an argument he knew he'd lose anyway, he'd only miss his bus.

XXX

"Johnny didn't mean it!" ... "No! He didn't _mean_ it!..."

Darry told their social worker he'd have to call her back, then hustled to the bedroom to calm Ponyboy down. Alone, it wasn't as easy. For such a small kid, weak and thin, he put up a good fight. Darry was doing all he could to cradle Ponyboy's upper body in his arms, lest his head get dinged on some piece of furniture. That meant that his legs were free to kick and thrash about. A bucking bronco couldn't be harder to control.

"Johnny... _No_!" fists swung out, striking at enemies unseen. Darry ignored the multiple contacts the blows made. The guys left worse marks during their wrestling matches with each other.

"Easy Ponyboy, easy."

Darry's strong arms held the boy tightly, rocking him back and forth until the protests withered away. Even after the silence and calm returned, Darry continued to sway gently. Rain pattered the window pane, the effect usually calming, but not settling the boy at all. It only added to Darry's frustrations.

The social worker had been the one to call Darry. There was trouble looming on the horizon.

"_Now that Ponyboy has returned, there is a hearing scheduled so that these events can be heard by the courts."_

"This was an accident … all he did wrong was run away! They nearly drowned him, and yet you're telling me he's going to be put on the stand to testify as to why he's _alive_?" Darry was indignant.

"_Darrel, we need to know what happened. Bob Sheldon's life ended that night, your brother is the only one who can tell us why."_

"There were other kids there. Ask them!" His patience was evaporating. Police reports were already on file. The Soc's involved had each - on their own volition – gone in to unload on paper their parts of this sick tale to the authorities. They all said the same thing.. the kid, Ponyboy, was face first in the fountain while his buddy, Johnny, did a Jack The Ripper on Bob the Bully. It was cut and dry, no pun intended.

His brother wasn't even awake yet, how could he answer anything? And besides that, Darry had the feeling nothing Ponyboy'd say would matter. Greasers got no breaks. He was certain that when the smoke cleared and the dust settled, they would still take Sodapop and Ponyboy away.

A searing knowledge burned at Darry's core. Nothing could dispel the fact that at the root of it, he was still the one who had caused all this in the first place. Knocked over the first domino in this string of events. He'd hit his brother, which went against every rule CPS has for guardian behavior towards their trustees. Even when that trustee was an often-times irritating 14 year old kid who'd gone out of his way to push all his oldest brothers buttons that night. Provided no one went to jail, he'd be lucky to see them again when they each turned 18 - if they even wanted to see_ him_ again.

It ate at him. Guilt. Tore him up all the way to his soul. He didn't have time for the pity party he so longed to have, Pony was screaming and Darry had to go. He hung up without the usual pleasantries and went to Pony's bedside.

Now with his youngest brother calm again, he laid him back down, settled the blankets over him and leaned back in his chair. Watching. Waiting. Hoping. Praying.

XXX

"How'd it go?" Soda asked, his shoes discarded in a corner as he stripped off his oil stained shirt.

"Same as it was yesterday. He had a few outbursts, saying something about Johnny. He hasn't needed anymore Tylenol, so that's good."

Soda leaned in close to his sleeping brother, breathing in long and deep. Darry sat up, his face still filled with concern.

"You look beat. Have you been in here the whole day?"

Darry shook his head. "No. I did some laundry. Washed the dishes. Had a talk with our social worker. You know, the usual." Sarcasm was not his forte.

"Social worker? What'd she want?"

Darry squeezed his eyes tight for a moment, seeing stars when he opened them again. "Pony's got to testify about this. Eventually. They've set the court date, but I don't know if he'll be ready for it by then."

Soda had a sinking feeling. He didn't trust courts, lawyers or social workers. Anyone of authority spooked him. They did well enough on their own, why couldn't bureaucrats just leave them alone?

"And if he ain't?"

Darry simply stared. He had no answer for that. He was only twenty... where was it written he was supposed to know everything, have all the answers?

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

Darry got up, leaving Soda and Ponyboy alone for a bit. He needed to get out of the house. The rain had slowed to a steady, pointless drizzle. It was cold outside, frigid - but not cold enough to snow. He stepped outside, feeling the mist waft over him, dampening his skin.

On a day like this not long ago in his past, he was out on the football field, throwing passes and running plays. Crowds cheered. His parents waved. His brothers smiled as they stomped their feet on the bleachers to get feeling back in their frozen toes. His buddies were there, ogling cheerleaders and picking up dates in the stands – promises of meeting him being their bribe.

Now here he was, only twenty but feeling years - if not decades older. Happiness seemed only a distant memory.

XXX

Calla Lily Rose


	5. Repose

**Four Days Until Dawn**

Installment 5

**Repose**

XXX

Darry came back inside and got his coat. He needed a break, a real break ... an opportunity to do something normal. Steve had come over, he and Sodapop were in the bedroom playing a very silent game of cards while watching Ponyboy sleep, so if he was going to go, this was the time.

"I'll be back in an hour or so. You okay with that?" It wasn't exactly a question, but he felt he should ask anyway.

Soda nodded, looking up at Darry's worn face. It had only been two days of keeping this vigil over their brother, and except for getting coffee or using the restroom, he had barely left Ponyboy's side.

"Go on, Dar. We got the kid." Steve nodded. Even Steve could see that Darry was at his limit. He didn't want to be there when the big guy finally broke.

Darry nodded, got his checkbook and headed to the grocery store.

"Get much done at work?" Steve asked to break the silence.

Soda picked up a card, grimaced at it and joined it with other cards he didn't want in his hand. "Worked on Mrs. Johannson's carburetor again. She insists there's a pinging noise."

"Again? I swear, that broad don't know nothing about cars." Steve picked up a card and gave it a cursory glance before adding it to his hand, discarding the two of clubs.

"No, but she gives good tips." Soda nodded with the closest thing to a genuine smile he'd had all day.

"Not as good as Mrs. Baker. And... Mrs. Baker's got a daughter that's nearly old enough."

"Old enough for what?" Soda asked, clearly not paying attention.

Steve dropped his hand, looking in shock at his best friend. "Hell, Soda, I know it ain't been but a few days, but there's plenty of chicks out there just itching to take Sandy's place. She messed around on you, she's history. Time to move on. C'mon, man, get your head back in the game! This chick digs you!"

Soda looked up, begrudgingly shoving his chin in his palm while resting his elbow on the tiny table. "Number one, I love Sandy, you know that. Number two, I ain't interested in dating anyone else right now. And number three, as you pointed out... Baker's daughter is _nearly _old enough. 'Nearly' only counts in horseshoes. Now move on. Different subject."

Steve eased back in his chair, giving up the subject for now. "Alright, alright. Didn't mean to rub salt in an open wound. But there's a world of opportunity out there, don't get mired in the past. And Sandy is most _definitely_ in the past."

Soda gave him a reproachful look, hoping it would dissuade Steve from pursuing this topic. If Ponyboy wasn't in the condition he was in, Soda'd reach over and whack Steve right off his chair.

Steve finally had the hand he wanted and laid down his cards, earning a tired, giving-up toss of Soda's cards back at him. He chuckled, piling the cards up for Soda to shuffle. "I'm hungry. You had dinner yet?"

Soda shook his head, having forgotten about food in his worry. There wasn't much left to choose from; some cereal, some soup. The makings for sandwiches was in the fridge, but that was too much work for him. He'd gotten used to eating anything he could grab that was quick and easy, just so he could get back to Pony's side.

Steve got up, determined to make something decent for the both of them to eat. He'd seen what was going on, and could also see it wasn't doing anyone any good. He surfed their cabinets, skimmed through the fridge. The selection wasn't much, but he managed. Within minutes, he had bacon sizzling on the stove, what limp lettuce he could salvage from the tired head washed up, and some still-decent tomatoes sliced. He found some eggs and fried them up as well. In a pot, he dumped a can of soup. Smells of real food started drifting down the hall, and Soda's stomach answered the call with a grumble.

On the bed, Pony twitched. Soda moved closer; watching, waiting. Limbs still for so long finally showed life again. His head lolled from one side then slowly to the other, his hands felt along the sheets. Then his eyes opened, stared for a few seconds then blinked. Soda felt his heart jump at the same time. There was vague recognition in those green eyes. He wasn't well … _yet, _but he was getting there.

"Soda? Is somebody sick?"

The confusion was clear in a voice that wasn't.

"Yeah," he murmured softly. "Go back to sleep now."

The boy was still a moment, trying to comprehend the meaning.

"Am_ I _sick?" he asked, the fog of illness thick around him.

Soda reached over and raked Ponyboy's hair with his fingers. "Yeah, you're sick. Now be quiet."

The boy relaxed some, sinking into the pillows as the little energy he'd had evaporated.

"Is Darry sorry I'm sick?" The confused look coupled with the painful implication of the question tore at Soda's heart.

"Yeah, he's sorry you're sick. Now please shut up, will ya, honey? Go back to sleep."

The boy finally obeyed the commands and drifted off to sleep again. Soda, thinking he was alone, leaned close over his brother, kissing him ever so slightly on his forehead. The sound of shifting weight in the doorway got Soda's attention and he looked over at Steve, who had been watching. What he'd seen and heard, coupled with how long he'd been there, he kept to himself.

"I uh, well .. dinner's ready."

Soda nodded and gave his brother another look. Ponyboy was soundly asleep with no hints of waking again soon evident. He pulled the covers tighter around Pony's shoulders and followed Steve to the table.

XXX

Darry made it back, carrying several bags in the door with him. Soda took one from him while Steve took another.

"Thanks," he said as his load was lightened. "How'd everything go?"

"Good. He uh, woke up for a moment."

Darry stopped in his tracks and looked at Soda hard. "Woke up? Is he still awake?"

Soda shook his head. "No. He was awake for only a minute or two. Said stuff like he couldn't remember why he was in bed. I told him he was sick and to go back to sleep."

"The kid's still a bit scrambled, Darry; but at least he wasn't fighting at stuff that ain't there." Steve added, trying to help.

"He woke _up_." Darry mumbled ironically. Figures, the moment he left his brother's side, that's when he'd come to. Darry wasn't sure if he should be happy that his brother was showing signs of improvement or upset that he'd missed it.

"It wasn't like he was spouting sense. Don't worry, you didn't miss nothing." Steve finalized it, putting the grocery away as Darry still stood in the kitchen, motionless.

Darry looked at Steve and rolled his eyes, knowing Steve wouldn't grasp the importance of missing something like this. While Soda and Steve put the grocery away, Darry headed down the hall.

"Pone?" Darry softly murmured as he sat on the side of the bed, leaning over.

His sleeping brother didn't wake, and Darry didn't try to force him. Instead, he brushed his finger along the cheekbone, then around his ear – as if tucking back an errant wisp. Darry shook his head at that pathetic haircut. It would take a few months to grow that blond mess out, or he could buy one of those hair coloring kits and get it at least closer to his natural shade. Darry smiled, thinking how goofy Pony would look with his head all dolled up like some lady in a boutique. It would destroy whatever shred of toughness his rep still clung to if the guys caught it, but whatever it took to make Ponyboy look like he was supposed to look was fine in his book. It would be Pony's decision though. Blond or reddish brown - as long as he was home, the rest didn't matter. He could shave it all off and start fresh for all Darry'd care.

XXX

Except for the two of them, the house was empty. Darry knew none of the gang would be over for at least an hour. Sodapop was gone as well, not that he really wanted to be gone though. They'd flipped for it; there was no winner or loser, but someone had to go and someone had to stay. Darry ended up staying, Soda going. He'd dressed in his nice pants and a decent shirt, then used Darry's good jacket to bundle up in.

Steve and Two-Bit were dressed similarly; Two-Bit in his only pair of black jeans while Steve wore a pair of dark pants, each wearing a decent shirt as well.

They weren't welcomed at the graveside service. Mr. and Mrs. Cade both had given them all nasty looks as the short funeral procession passed them going into the cemetery, but they'd made it as close as Soda's parents' graves and watched from that distance. Steve was anticipating trouble and kept a wary eye on Mr. Cade. He'd been known to backhand Johnny with timber, and wouldn't put it past him to act up at his own son's funeral. He'd do it, too, just to cause Johnny more pain - if he could.

In the end, it was just looks that were given. The day before while flipping the coin and discussing who was going, Steve and Two-Bit had talked about their chances of being Johnny's pallbearers, but knew the Cades would never allow it. They were right. Strangers carried Johnny's simple casket and placed it over the grave. Something too low for any of them to hear was read from the Bible, and then the Cade's turned to leave before the minister could even step over to shake either of their hands. Right away, the groundskeepers started lowering the casket, preventing any further goodbye's from anyone else. Even the gang's last farewells were forbidden. Soda had wanted to at least thank Johnny, silently, for keeping Ponyboy safe while they were gone, and like Steve and Two-Bit's last opportunity to say goodbye, his last chance was stolen from him as well.

The service had been short. There were no flowers. There wasn't a marker. Chairs weren't even set up. The Cades obviously wanted no one there, which hurt the guys deeply. Johnny's last act had him heralded as a hero, yet his parents went out of their way to seemingly dispose of him like trash. The guys knew there was nothing they could do for their friend.

"Bye, Johnny. You take care, kid." Two-Bit said aloud as they each shifted uneasily on their feet.

"Lets go." Steve commanded gently. He led the way and together they walked out.

XXX

"Mrs. Pendelton? It's Darrel Curtis. You helped me with Ponyboy... is this a bad time?"

"_No, it's fine. Is he okay? Do you need me to come over?"_

"No, he seems to be doing okay, still sleeping and all. I just wanted to ask your advice if I could. We.. well, we sort of have a social worker who is insisting that Ponyboy go to court to talk about all this. I'm not so sure he'll be able to do that. He hasn't even woken up yet. Any suggestions?"

On her end of the line, Marge tapped her forehead, thinking hard. _"Darrel, I might be able to help, but there's no guarantee until Ponyboy wakes up. There's a doctor I know who might be interested in this case. I'll give him a call and fill him in, see if he'd be willing to lend a hand. I'll have him call you back later. That okay?"_

Darry crammed his hand in his pocket, nodding at the receiver. "Yes, that would be great. I really appreciate this, Mrs. Pendelton."

"_No problem. You just call if you need me. I don't mind a bit."_

XXX

It was nearly midnight, yet Darry couldn't sleep. The recliner was not the best substitute for a bed, but he doubted that was the reason for his insomnia. He knew he'd regret it in the morning when he was supposed to be at work. Seeing the flashes of thunder in the sky, he doubted he'd even be going to work - at least not to the construction site. He sighed, knowing it meant he would be calling over to the warehouse to get on the schedule to make up for lost roofing hours. Still, a paycheck was a paycheck, and he was desperately needing a paycheck.

A crack of thunder ripped the night in half, rattling the window panes. Not five seconds later, lightening torched the sky as if it were midday.

"No! N-n-n..NO!" Ponyboy yelled, jerking his hands, fighting off some unseen enemy. "Darry!"

Darry was at his brother's side in an instant, holding his hands while trying to break through the mental bindings that confounded his memory.

"I'm here, Pone … I'm here. You're safe. Shhh, you're safe."

Whether or not the boy heard him, he couldn't say. Another crack of thunder boomed overhead, bringing Sodapop into the fray. Darry didn't admit it - Soda was nothing but a wreck after he'd come back from Johnny's funeral, but he was glad Soda'd come in anyway.

"How is he?" Soda asked, kneeling by the bed. He felt his brother's face, raked his hair and covered Ponyboy's free hand with his own. The trembling coming from the youngest was obvious.

"I can't tell if it's the usual nightmare thing or the delirium messing with him."

"Ponyboy, shhh baby. It's okay." Soda warily cooed. Another thunderous boom broke the silence, but Pony didn't flinch. Either he wasn't hearing the storm, or it wasn't having an effect anymore. Soda slid in under the covers, wrapping an arm over his young brother.

"You know if he gets to thrashing, he might get hurt worse," Darry cautioned.

"He ain't gonna thrash. He'll be fine." Soda answered with exhausted conviction. Months of sleeping so close to his brother had trained him to read the movements, the minute flexing of muscles, the faintest tremors of fear. He could respond and sooth in his sleep. It was second nature now. Darry watched as Sodapop curled his frame next to their youngest brother, held him to his chest and silently drifted off to sleep. A moment later, Darry moved back into the recliner, pulled a throw blanket over his own bulky frame and tried again to sleep.

XXX

Calla Lily Rose

Parts of_ The Outsiders_ used without permission. Please don't sue.

Wow. You guys still there? I know it's a dark tale, but really... where you expecting a party while he slept? It's almost over, even bears wake up after a long winter's nap.


	6. Dawn Breaks

**Four Days Until Dawn**

Installment 6

**Dawn Breaks**

XXX

The storm passed during the night, but by the morning the damage was done.

"_It's too wet out. All work canceled for the day. We'll try to make up the time this weekend. Sorry, Darrel."_

"That's okay, Mr. Campbell. See you tomorrow." Darry hung up the phone, glancing at the calender.

The mortgage was due on the 20th, the electric due on the 15th, and the water due on the 18th. He'd have to hope Pony's hospital bill wouldn't come in for another few weeks - that or he'd have to ask for an extension on the payments. No matter what, he'd have to put in a ton of hours at the warehouse just to stay afloat. Still, he did what he had to do.

Breakfast was underway, sausage cooking in one pan with eggs going in another. Toast was in the toaster. Darry was tired of cereal and wanted something more substantial to sooth his appetite.

Down the hall, the door creaked. Soda appeared, pulling his arm down behind his back, stretching.

"So how'd you sleep?"

The question was rhetorical. On both faces, lines encircled tired eyes, voices were raspy and each had the look of fatigue sculpting their features. Constant worry was the devil's paint.

"I don't remember _sleeping_, exactly. I'm fine, don't worry bout me." He picked up Darry's cup of coffee by mistake and took a gulp, wincing as the sharp liquid constricted his throat. He blinked and took another swallow, hating the taste yet too tired to get something else. Darry grinned and silently poured in some milk and a bit of sugar, removing the bitter bite he knew black coffee gave.

"You look like hell, little man." Darry remarked. Soda's eyebrow went up.

"You should talk. Going in to work?" Soda noticed the time, if Darry was going, he was going to be late.

"Nope. Boss canceled the job today. Too wet."

"Guess Saturday is your make-up day then," Soda mumbled, knowing Darry's routine by now.

"Yup. Here, eat." Darry slid a plate under Soda's nose and made a plate for himself. They ate in silence, Darry noting the drooping eyes of his younger brother throughout. He'd been a trooper, staying at Ponyboy's side constantly unless forced to work or sleep. However, there was only so much a sixteen year old could physically do, and he knew Soda was spent.

"Go back to bed." Darry said after breakfast was eaten.

Soda shook his head, opening his eyes wide as if that would do the trick. "Nope. I'm gonna go shower and shave though, try to clean up a little, feel human again. I'll get the dishes when I'm done."

Darry watched as Soda headed to the bathroom, silently shaking his head at his middle brother's stubbornness. That trait only deepened with Ponyboy, who could be far worse in his hardheadedness when he chose to. As the water ran in the bathroom, Darry went to check on his still-sleeping brother.

He was curled up on his side, a pillow tucked along his back where Soda had laid. His fingers slowly flexed along the mattress, restless motion stubbornly refusing to be held captive to slumber. He wondered what was going on in that head, what he was dreaming - if he was dreaming at all.

Still, it worried him. This was the fourth day of laying in this state. He hadn't had anything to eat, and the little liquid he'd taken in measured just a few ounces delivered by syringe. With nothing going in, nothing was coming out either. That couldn't be good on the system. Darry started to plan when he'd throw in the towel and finally admit defeat, taking his youngest brother back to the hospital to get the proper care he needed - even if it meant he'd lose everything in the process.

The water shut off down the hall and Soda popped his head out.

"Darry, we got anymore shaving cream?"

Darry got up and went to the bathroom, checking under the cabinet where the extra cans were stored. There were none. Darry sighed, knowing he'd have to find the money to pick some up. He had enough in pocket change for at least one can. That would hopefully tide them over for a week.

"Nope. I'll have to get some later today. You'll have to use soap."

Without a word of complaint, Soda reached into the shower and grabbed the bar, bubbling it to a lather to spread on his face.

"Shit!" he muttered a few minutes later. Soda cursing like that was rare and warranted investigating.

Darry went back to the bathroom to see what was up and noticed the smear of dark pink mixing with the soap.

"You okay?" Darry asked.

"Yeah, fine, just a nick. Damn straight razor."

"Straight razor? Where the heck is your safety razor?" Darry wondered, looking around the bathroom.

"That thing's blunt as a butter knife. I got to get new refills for it."

Soda held some tissue to his cheek as he leaned heavily against the sink, one hand propping him up. A moment later, the pressure finally staunched the flow.

Darry sighed as he watched his brother sway slightly. "Soda, enough already. Go back to bed. You can get all gussied up later when you can see straight."

"But -"

"Uh-uh. No 'but's' about it. Go. Sleep in my room. I ain't leaving the house and I'll call you if anything happens. Now go on."

Soda wanted to sleep in his room closer to Ponyboy, but even he knew how futile it was to argue with his older brother. Soda washed the soap off his face and toweled himself dry, then headed off to Darry's bed for some shut eye. Sleep beckoned him before his head hit the pillow.

The phone rang not long afterward and Darry crossed the house to answer it before the second ring sounded. He didn't want Soda woken up now that he had finally gone back to bed again. Darry wondered who was calling, hoping it wasn't Soda's boss wondering where he was. As far as he knew, Soda was off today. As bad as they needed the money, if Soda somehow went in, he'd probably end up fired since even holding a pencil would be a major feat.

"Hello?"

"_Yes, sir, I'm Dr. Steinman. Nurse Pendelton asked me to call about, um, Ponyboy Curtis. Have I reached his guardian?"_

Warm relief rippled through him as he held the phone. This probably wouldn't be free nor would it be cheap, but he was relatively sure it would be less than what the hospital would charge.

"Yes, I'm his guardian. Darrel Curtis."

"_Marge told me a little about Ponyboy's condition and asked if I could look in on him. Mentioned something about a court issue also. They want him to testify?"_

"That's what our social worker is wanting. He's not even awake, I don't know how he'll be able to do this."

"_Well, more than likely he won't be able to. I can't really tell anything until I examine him. Would this evening be a good time? I could come to your house sometime after seven."_

Darry's house versus his office. He hadn't heard of any doctor making house calls in ages, and never in his neighborhood. What weighed heavily on his mind was he knew he didn't have any money on hand to pay the doctor if he did come over.

"_Darrel?"_

"Yes sir, I'm still here. I uh, I'd like to have you see him – yes, but how much would the bill come to? I'm sorry to be so blunt, but I'd like to know ahead of time. So I'd have enough. Sir."

He quickly went through his options.... a bank loan which he probably wouldn't get, borrow from Tim if Tim was feeling agreeable to it, or – and he hated doing it, selling their mother's last possession ... the piano that was left specifically for Ponyboy to inherit. The old man at the piano shop had always told Darry if he wanted to offload the instrument, he'd pay handsomely for it; but Darry had always said no. But now it was coming to where he had little choice. Well, he _could_ sell his truck. Damn, this was giving him a headache. He rubbed his eyes as the doctor gave his price.

"_I'll just come over and see him. We'll talk expense later, lets just get that young man taken care of first. So, is seven okay?"_

What Darry didn't know was that Marge Pendelton had been one of Ron Steinman's best nurses years ago, before she left to work at Tulsa General. The two had a professional bond that was at times thicker than some family relationships. They both wanted to help patients – cost be damned, simple as that. Dr. Steinman had been used to living simply, and had no call to change it. He charged only the bare minimum and was very flexible with payments.

"_They need a break, Ron. Can you help them? For me?" _Marge implored. Of course he would.

Marge had told Ron about the boy, about his heroics in Windrixville, about all the things Johnny had revealed to her about Ponyboy and his family and how hard they had it as he lay there - weakening himself, refusing to be silent as he knew his own time was coming to an end.

Darry couldn't believe what he was hearing. A doctor was coming over to see his brother, and there would be no up-front bill? "Sure, Dr. Steinman. Seven is fine. Here's my address...."

Darry rattled off the address and hung up, amazed. Still, he worried. He'd been told too many times that if it seemed too good to be true, it probably was. Just this once, though... he hoped it would be real. He ran his fingers through his hair and went to check on Ponyboy. At least _he_ wouldn't need to shave today. He was needing another bath though, getting a little ripe in the thin pajamas they'd dressed him in days ago. Maybe later, after Soda'd had some rest, they'd manage it.

Darry passed the morning cleaning the house so that when the doctor came he wouldn't think of them as typical hoods who didn't know how to clean up or lacked pride in themselves. Laundry that never seemed to be done was washed, dried, folded and put away. Dishes that piled up even when no one ate were cleaned and set in the rack to dry, and clutter that seemed to appear out of nowhere was put in the can by the curb. His mother used to say there were elves that wandered the house searching for something to upend when no one was looking. When he was really little and didn't know any better, he looked for those elves – but never found them.

Despite the years of messiness, headache and misadventures her three boys got into, she never seemed upset about the clutter. Now Darry knew a little better how hard his parents worked to make their house a home, and how hard it was to keep three boys on the straight and narrow – especially when the road was often filled with potholes, ruts, and bends unseen. He could never replace them, but hoped one day Ponyboy would see how hard he worked to give him and Sodapop something of a decent life too.

Finally Darry looked around. It all seemed done. There was nothing left to do unless he wanted to paint the walls or fix the screen on the door, and he was too tired for that. With Soda asleep in his bed, the only place left was the armchair, so that's where he went. He needed a little shut eye himself, hoping that when he woke, he'd have some answers.

Answers to what to do with Ponyboy.

A while later - long or short, he didn't know, but later nonetheless, he felt someone nudging his leg.

"Hey Darry … hey … _Darry,_ wake up."

Darry opened his eyes ... and found his answer staring back at him.

XXX

The End

Calla Lily Rose


End file.
